


Thinking (Of You, Always Of You)

by zilchs



Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love, M/M, Sexual Content, soft, thoughts from mike's little melon, very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29293929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilchs/pseuds/zilchs
Summary: Mike thinks a lot. Of a lot of things, but mostly of Micky.
Relationships: Micky Dolenz/Mike Nesmith
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Thinking (Of You, Always Of You)

Mike thinks a lot.

Of a lot of things. Songs and music. The budgeting for that month. Would they be able to make rent on time? Never. He thinks of Texas. Dry land stretching for miles, blisteringly hot but still so cold and faint. He thinks of his mom, wringing out a dishcloth on the porch and praying that her only son is alright. He thinks of Davy. Wishes that the little Brit would stop being so focused on girls and take time for himself. He thinks of Peter. His impossible kindness. His profound naivety. But mostly, he thinks of Micky.

Micky.

Micky is warm but not like Texas warm. He does not scorch, he beams. He leaks sunshine from every pore within his golden skin. He's always the warmest after coming in from a swim. 

He walks in, hair slightly damp and starting to frizz. Small beads of water stick to his skin, some travel downwards. Red shorts cling to his body, even tighter with the weight of water.

"Hey," he says softly, always softly. He grins before leaning in for a kiss. 

Mike's chest always seems to bloom when he feels the petal soft lips against his own. 

"Well, hi," he replies, grinning back.

"I'm gonna take a shower. You can join me if you want," and he winks. 

Mike places two hands on his rib cage, feeling the sunshine pour into his palms. 

"We'll never make it out."

Micky laughs, light and airy. Then he shrugs. "Up to you." 

Mike watches as he bounds upstairs, full of energy. He waits for the sound of the shower, and smiles. 

Mike picks up a job to make extra money. Carpentry. Long, hot hours in the sun. Starting early in the morning and finishing late at night. He thinks of Micky while hammering nails into boards just as the sun begins to rise.

Micky is always so peaceful when he sleeps. His flat nose twitches slightly. His lips are parted. He never has nightmares. He never has trouble staying asleep. He lets sleep envelop him and bring him the loveliest of dreams. 

Mike almost never sleeps. So he spends the time he's awake in the quiet darkness watching Micky. He watches his skinny chest rise and fall gently. Tries to permanently ingrain the image of his long naked body curled up beside him into his brain. 

And when he gets home, Micky is waiting for him in bed, almost like he never left. And he kneads Mike's shoulders with his calloused drummer hands. 

"Missed you," he breathes. "Always miss you when you're gone."

"Dramatic," Mike tuts, though he could cry at the thought of being missed by someone. 

Micky's hands travel down his back, pressing and uncoiling knots expertly. Mike groans and presses back against him. 

"Not dramatic," Micky brushes his lips against the taller man's earlobe. "Just the truth. Gets so lonely without you." He presses a kiss to Mike's neck. 

"You got Peter and Davy here, why don't you wanna play with them?"

Micky wraps his long arms around Mike and hums. "Cuz I like playing with you the most." 

And Mike turns around and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. 

Mike sits on the edge of his bed and tries to write a song. The inspiration is there, glowing white-hot behind his eyes. He moves his hand to strum a chord, but is almost instantly interrupted by thoughts of Micky. 

Micky loves sex. Thrives off of it. It's not a dirty thing to him. It's never been dirty. For him, it's all about pleasure. And pleasure looks beautiful on him.

"Say it again," he moans, arching his back slightly.

"Good boy," Mike cups his cheek with his hand and slips a thumb in his mouth. 

Micky moans again, eyes full of love and hazy with desperation. He wraps both legs around the guitarist and urges him on. Harder, faster, deeper, more, more. Silently saying I love you with his body.

And then Micky comes and Mike thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. 

His body tenses, shakes, relaxes in a matter of seconds. His cheeks bloom pink. He smiles and shouts "yes, yes, yes!". And relief washes over his features like a cold splash from an ocean wave.

Mike thinks of lazy mornings, when Peter and Davy are both away. Perfect mornings. Letting the sun bathe them as they kissed and touched each other over and over again. Slowly they'd wake up and move downstairs to make breakfast.

Well, more Micky sat on the counter and flirted with Mike while he made breakfast. 

"You look sexy when you're chopping tomatoes."

Mike laughs. "That so?" 

Micky hums. "Very so. I like when you cook for me. I like...being spoiled." He grins. He's always grinning. It's always beautiful. 

Mike slots himself between Micky's legs and pulls him to the edge of the counter. Micky brushes the hair off of his forehead so gently and so lovingly with his warm, large hands. 

Mike gets a good look at the beautiful boy before him. He's always looking at him. Always amazed that he has this sunny California boy to call his own. He loves how curly his hair is in the morning. He loves his long, skinny legs and hairless chest. His flat nose and arched eyebrows. Everything he knows the boy is self-conscious about. He loves it all.

"I like spoilin' ya. You deserve it. Shit, you deserve everything, baby," he stops himself from rambling to embarrassment. 

Micky holds his face in his hands and leans down to kiss him, long and slow. It's almost overwhelming.

"I love you." He means it. He really means it. 

"I love you, too." Mike means it. Really, truly, desperately means it.

Mike thinks about love. He never thought he'd get to experience it. Not like this. Never like this. He remembers his father telling him to marry a nice girl and settle down somewhere in Dallas. He was always terrified by the thought. He remembers the church telling him it was a sin. How could being loved so fiercely but so gently be called a sin? 

Micky holds him and kisses him and tells him everything will be alright. And when Mike presses his chest against Micky's, he feels their hearts beating the same song.

**Author's Note:**

> suddenly had this weird inspiration to write abt mike's thoughts and feelings abt his bf mwah. so here it is. i thought abt making this a two part story with mike's thoughts and then micky's but i dunno!! maybe i will maybe i won't. hope u enjoyed <3


End file.
